Somehow, everybody seemed disturbed.
Harper Ames looked positively disgruntled. Both secretaries sat, with eyes cast down, as if dismayed at the way things were going. Clearly, there was disappointment that the matter could not be finished up then and there, one way or another.
I came to the conclusion that the Coroner was largely at fault. Apparently he knew little about conducting an inquest, and though he made no basic errors, he was distinctly floundering and decidedly out of his depth.
“There is much yet to be learned,” he announced, and we all, I am sure, silently agreed with him. “There are strange happenings to be explained, stories to be investigated, clues to be traced, evidence to be sifted, and until these things are done the jury cannot come to a decision. As they have seen and identified the deceased man, and have heard the detail of the finding of the body, the funeral may be held and the estate may be administered. But no witness may leave town, and all present must attend the resumed inquest one week from to-day.”
Again I looked at the principals. As I could take no part in the conversation, I contented myself with trying to read faces.
Nor was it difficult to do so.
Alma was trembling. Not only did her eyelids quiver, but she shook all over, though quite evidently trying to control herself. Merivale stood at her side; we had all risen now, and the girl leaned heavily upon the arm of the faithful nurse.
Katherine Dallas looked daggers at everybody. Whatever her reason, whatever her mental attitude, she appeared angry at the whole world and inclined to show it.
Ames maintained his usual aspect, which was that of grumpiness.
That is the only word that really describes that man. He was not actively angry, not exactly morose, but just grumpy, and it seemed to be his normal state.